Not About Love
by Sonya Omun
Summary: Of all the things in his strange friend's life, Soubi's relationship with Seimei is what confuses Kio most. One-shot.


**NOT ABOUT LOVE**

'For the last time, Kio, Seimei is not my boyfriend.'

Kio threw up his arm just in time to catch the front door that Soubi 'accidentally' let swing into his face. He pushed his way in after Soubi, into the blond's apartment, undeterred by the attempt to lock him out.

Lips terse around the lollipop in his mouth, Kio tsked. 'What would you call it, then?'

Soubi continued to move about the room, diligently pretending Kio wasn't in his house while he began setting up a canvas.

'Seimei is Seimei,' he said flatly, spreading several brushes out on the floor around him.

'What does that even mean?' Kio stomped over to the waste basket, throwing the half-eaten candy away with unnecessary force. The bile that welled up in his throat over the subject of the Aoyagi boy was too much at odds with the sweetness of the sucker.

Remaining cold and stoic, Soubi lowered himself onto the floor in a seating position. 'It means exactly what you think it does,' he answered, mixing paints to create a gentle heliotrope colour. Kio was nowhere near as controlled, giving the trash can in front of him a kick.

'What I think it does?! I don't know, Soubi!' He twirled around to gesture his helpless confusion to his friend that sat painting.

The evidence that Soubi didn't feel as aloof as he acted lay in the fact that minute drops of paint splattered from the broad brush onto the floor every time the hairs connected with the canvas. Soubi's melodious voice was thinner than Kio had ever heard it. 'Perhaps you're not supposed to.'

Blunt nails scored marks in Kio's palms, fists clenched and shaking at his sides. 'I'm your friend,' he forced out through gritted teeth, attempting not to yell. 'Can't you see this isn't right? Why would you have to be so secretive about your boyfriend?'

'Kio.'

Soubi didn't raise his voice, didn't even cease the sweeping brush strokes, yet that one word snapped through the air like a cracking whip. Kio fell silent, feeling the suddenly threatening atmosphere subside. For the first time in his life, Kio was forced to look at Soubi through different eyes. It was always beautiful Soubi. Cryptic Soubi. Poor, damaged, beaten, bleeding, Soubi. For the first time, in that one word, Kio heard the sharp edge of danger – the first chill of a potential destructive storm of icy anger.

Kio looked away from the stranger he had always determinedly called his friend. 'Why else would it be Beloved?'

Soubi's brush stilled. 'What did you say?' The silence in lieu of that soft mumble was louder than the actual words Soubi has spoken.

With a soft crinkle, Kio produced a lollipop, twirling the stick round and round in his nervous hands to occupy them. A knot twisted his insides, making him feel too queasy to eat the candy that his fingers toyed with.

'I heard you, once,' he started slowly, warily eyeing the crown of Soubi's head that remained bowed. 'You thought I had already left. The door wasn't closed all the way. I could tell from the way you suddenly wanted me to leave that it was,' a beat of silence as Kio mentally steered away from profanities, '_him._ I heard you talk to him on the phone.' Kio fidgeted, uncomfortably trying to gauge what Soubi might do or say.

Slowly, Soubi put down his brush, still not looking at Kio. 'I see.' He sounded disinterested again, taking up his pallet to mix more paints.

He didn't know what he had been expecting Soubi to do, but Kio felt a sinking feeling of disappointment, once again being stonewalled by passivity.

Kio obstinately continued to stare at the painting Soubi, hoping for- _something! _His eyes lingered for a long time on the bandages that covered Soubi's throat at all times.

'He's the one that did that, isn't he?' His voice was hushed, knowing he was encroaching on a subject that in the past had made Soubi shut him out for weeks on end. 'He carved that into your throat.'

For the second time, Soubi lowered his brush. Despite his placid facial expression, when Soubi lifted his eyes, it felt like Kio received a static shock. Even seated on his knees on the floor, Kio was suddenly aware how tall Soubi was, how much strength was hidden in those willowy limbs.

'You don't understand.'

Soubi had the habit of disregarding Kio to avoid discussing topics, going about his routines as though his friend wasn't even present until Kio reverted back to more agreeable topics of conversation. Now, Soubi's eyes rested on his face unwaveringly, staring Kio down. In turn, Kio felt his face grow hotter, pinned by that ardent gaze.

'I don't understand?' Kio made a high, humourless sound of disbelief. 'What about you? Can't you see how sick this is? How sick _he _is?!'

Tension again tightened the air between them as Soubi slowly rose from his position on the floor. Kio, losing the silent battle of wills, lowered his eyes as Soubi kept a hard look aimed at him. With his eyes wandering, Kio noticed Soubi's fists were clenched.

'Don't speak about Seimei that way.' The usual passivity of Soubi's voice was spread painfully thin, flimsy silk attempting to cover course rock.

Kio, however, despite his disquiet, had long since decided he wasn't going to be scared of the enigmatic and strange Soubi. While his classmates whispered about blood stained bandages and aloof silences, Kio had seen a wistful loneliness in the man that compulsively surrounding himself with butterflies. The stunning paintings of the flitting insects, vibrantly coloured and free in flight, seemed to express all the life that Soubi lacked with his withdrawn ways.

Just like that first day in class, Kio closed the distance between them, toes stopping a little short of Soubi's.

'You're always telling me off for something,' the calm that Kio tried to put in his words sounded strained to his own ears as he stared up at Soubi, eyes pleading for the other to understand. 'Why can't you do the same with Seimei? You have the right to stand up for yourself!'

'Seimei is different.' Soubi turned away from Kio, but did not move away far, halting as Kio began shrieking at his back.

'No, he's not! He's an abusive, sadistic _creep!_ That kid is a psycho, Soubi! He's using you. He leaves you to worry and wonder for days – weeks! – without a single word, then expects you to ditch classes to meet up with him! And for what?! He _hurts _you, Soubi! And you defend him!' Kio's voice cracked, the silence that followed only broken by his own heavy breathing.

There was no hesitation in Soubi's voice as he answered, once again level and emotionless. 'It's his right.'

Kio sank his hands in his hair with a groan of long-standing frustration. The pain of his own tugging fingers was nearly enough to drown out the maddening sense of helplessness that writhed sickeningly beneath his skin.

'Do you know how insane that sounds?!' He didn't even realize he was still shouting, advancing on Soubi who still refused to look at him. 'No one has the right to hit you! To degrade you. For fuck's sake, he turned a _knife _on you, Soubi! He's manipulating you!' Kio reached for Soubi's shoulder, intending to force the taller blond to make eye contact. 'These are the actions of a madman, no matter how much the tells you he loves you afterw-'

'You're wrong!'

Soubi's hand lashed out along with his words, catching Kio's wrist as he pivoted to face him. The grip of those delicate fingers was crushing, and Kio could do little as Soubi unrelentingly pulled up his arm. Forced to take a step forward, Kio's chest brushed against Soubi's sternum.

'Ah-! S-Soubi! You're- hurting me-' Kio half-heartedly tugged at his wrist, wincing as Soubi's fingers tightened more. 'H-how am I wrong?' He asked warily, stilling more under Soubi's stare. Soubi's grey eyes were darkened, shimmering with a nameless energy like thunderclouds swirling with the hidden power of lightning.

Leaning closer, looming over Kio, Soubi's voice came out a rumble from his visibly taut throat, 'Seimei has never claimed to love me.'

The solid bitterness behind those words felt like a slap to the face. 'S-Soubi- But... Why?' Kio's voice was weak, hand now limp in Soubi's grip.

Kio didn't know what to say, only staring at Soubi's face, that suddenly appeared much more strained and lined. With those seven words, he saw more emotion in his friend than he had ever seen. As Soubi stared him down, he could see the deep tunnels of suffering stretching on behind those eyes. As unnatural as Soubi's passivity always seemed, something he needed to discard in order to really function, Kio asked himself for the first time what the blond would be without it. So often had he considered Soubi someone to take care of, to keep an eyes on. He had often thought of Soubi as a wounded animal, biting and fleeing, unable to understand others were trying to nurse him back to health. Looking at Soubi's tense features, Kio realized he could likely not withstand the hardships Soubi had weathered in his life. And those were just the things Kio had found out about.

'You know nothing about Seimei.' Long fingers relinquished their hold, Kio's arm heavily falling by his side.

'This isn't about love.' The certainty behind the statement made Kio cringe. Finally breaking off his oppressive gaze, Soubi turned and decisively strode out the front door, closing it sharply behind him before Kio had even moved.

It felt as though that wordless energy behind Soubi's eyes was what had kept Kio upright. As the door shut with a dry crack, he crumpled to his knees, still staring up at the place where phantom grey eyes looked at him with unveiled agony.

'Not about love?' He mumbled, watched from all directions by the dead eyes of motionless butterflies. 'It is for me.'

**Author's Note: Thank you very much for taking the time to read. All comments are more than welcome. **


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